


in the middle of the world

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, Gen, Slow Build, World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: There’s a story about two boys and a dream. It goes like this:the World Cup only comes true when they least expect it, just like love.





	in the middle of the world

**Author's Note:**

> retirement is hard or something. couldn't get this out of my head because my weakness is jersey lifting in the absence of a player. 
> 
> locked because wow, no one look at my shame and inability to process any sort of emotion without writing a bunch of nonsense, especially with such a niche ship (can u believe we qualified) that happens to not exist. cool, cool. 
> 
> how many times can I use the word 'dream' in a fic. apparently a lot.
> 
> title comes from Moonlight

Paolo doesn’t fall in love with the ocean until he finds Jefferson. He has a healthy appreciation for the waters he grew up with but the beach was only a location, not a feeling. His ancestors were fishermen and fighters. He only related to one of those really.

But Jeffry loved the ocean like it was part of him. 

_”We’re born swimming, Paolo. It’s instinct.” He’s not quite as exasperated as he sounds. His mouth is edging towards something like a smile. It was an old argument, trying to get Paolo to appreciate the beach for more than the sun and pretty girls._

_He hums noncommittally. “I kept my mother up with all my kicking. She still complains about it.”_

_Jefferson laughs, loud enough to attract stares. They’re not famous really. There are still pockets of Lima that don’t know their faces and Jeffry had made fun of his hair style enough to admit it was a great disguise for Paolo._

_“That sounds like her. At least you’ll be able to pay her back with more kicking.” His laughter smothers itself into a snort or two like it always does when he thinks he is being particularly funny. Paolo flips him off. He would be heading off to Germany in a few months. It would be a dream come true. Europe was where the money was and Paolo was ready to see what was beyond the country of his birth._

He doesn’t have five minutes of peace when the news breaks, but he doesn’t expect Jeffry’s call. If only because the time difference between Rio and Moscow meant Jefferson had to be busy doing something else. 

“Who did this to you?” There’s unbridled anger in his low tone and some small part of Paolo sighs in relief. It wasn’t like his family and friends weren’t being supportive, but having to speak to the club, the lawyers, and explain over and over again how there was no way he would put his life and livelihood at risk had strained any goodwill he had towards people at the moment. 

“I don’t know. I’ve been sick, you know? They think it could’ve been one of the teas--I don’t know, it was to clear up my sinuses. My nutritionist said it was okay.” He laughs, desperately, to avoid the lump of emotion rising up in his throat. 

“I just wanted to run.” His voice sounds simultaneously far away and too loud, in stereo. He had stopped trying to guess what the media would say after the first hour, even as his agent reassured him he had the majority in his favor. It didn’t stop some of the more unsavory rumors from cropping up. Paolo closed his eyes, tight enough to hurt. Another libel case would be a nightmare. He wanted to go home. 

“I believe you, Paolo. Anyone who doesn’t,” Jeffry leaves it hanging, the threat clear. He chokes out more weak laughter.

“You can’t punch FIFA, _Foquita_.I won’t be able to play.” It’s a horrible realization that squeezes his lungs painfully. He’s going to miss the play-offs. “You’re going to have-”

“No,” Jefferson cuts him off. 

Paolo doesn’t continue, knows how stubborn he can be. It doesn’t matter really, there’s a million things he could fill in, everything underscored by the fact that Jefferson would be there and Paolo would not. His breath hitches.

“Tell me about your dad. Tell me the story, why he picked Paolo as your name.” It’s a rush of words over the line and Paolo doesn’t want to say anything, much less the same old story Jefferson has heard about a dozen times. It’s hard enough without remembering the amount of faith placed on him. 

He had been so close to the biggest dream of his career and now he would have to watch, not even from the sidelines, but cast out because of a mistake. 

“He named me after Paolo Rossi.” There wasn’t any life in the sentence. It was just a fact. He was so tired. Jefferson waited for more but Paolo had nothing else to give. 

“You’re telling it wrong.” Jefferson sighs out long and loud. “Your dad had a dream. He dreamt you would be a football player and the Italians had won the World Cup the year before. Rossi scored a hattrick against Brazil, remember? You’re our Paolo. You did it. You got us to the play-offs. Now let us get you to the World Cup.” He ends softly. 

Paolo can’t speak over the gratitude overflowing in his heart. 

“I wish you were here.” He says, not knowing how true it was until it was out in the open. 

“Me too,” There’s a heavy pause over the line, “I would drag you to the beach. Someone has to appreciate it for you.” 

_”I can’t believe you drove three and a half hours to look at a frozen river.” He nudges him with his elbow. Jefferson rolls his eyes. It was winter break for the league and for some insane reason Paolo agreed to give Jeffry the tour of Hamburg instead of staying a few more days in Miami where it was warm and sunny._

_Miami didn’t have Jeffry._

_“Schalke never lets me run away to the ocean.” He laments. So the frozen grey Elbe would have to do, Paolo fills in for him and chuckles at his melodramatics._

_“You’re not a mermaid. You went back home, my mom said you ate all her _arroz con leche_. You can survive a few months without swimming in your beloved sea. Or you could find a pool like a normal person.” There’s a glare being directed at Paolo that he blissfully ignores. _

_“You know the smell--”_

_“Offends your delicate senses, I know, Little Mermaid. Can we go, my hands are cold even with the gloves on.” Jeffry huffs but moves away from the railing._

_“What, does Hamburg pay you in peanuts? Get better gloves, idiot. And that’s not my nickname.” He bumps into him using all of his weight to get Paolo off-balance. All it accomplishes is Paolo using his height to his advantage, supporting himself with an arm around Jeffry’s neck._

_“I think you’re getting a big head in Schalke.” He swallows down his pride to a manageable level. Jefferson had followed his dreams to Europe, first to Eindhoven and now to Schalke. The best part was they got to share this together._

He wakes up to the cheesiest instagram post the next morning. Jefferson’s words comfort him more than his mother offering to speak out to the local news. _We have a history together And I’m sure this story will go on forever._ He won’t give that up.

They’re not as young as when they first imagined getting to the World Cup as evidenced by the progression of the kids to the adults they were in the photos he used, but they would get through it as they always did: together.

Paolo watches the montage a couple of times, staying in bed until his mind is focused on the goal of facing insurmountable odds. He texts Jefferson a thank you. He gets a plethora of emojis back and a snap of him in an ice bath. 

Everything is as it should be just for a wonderful moment.

He doesn’t watch the game in New Zealand until after it happens. It’s not that Paolo doesn’t want to support his team, his friends, his country, and Jefferson, but it’s painful. 

It’s almost a relief when his phone displays the 0-0 tie, even when he knows they would’ve benefited more from something, one goal would’ve been plenty. He listens to the coverage the next day and knows they could’ve gotten one, if only.

 **I’m sorry.** breaks through his pity party because Paolo isn’t self-centered enough to think his pain is his alone or that his teammates aren’t disappointed either. They still had their chances. New Zealand had showed its hand and they were more than enough to match it, but football only cared about results not hopes.

He doesn’t call Jefferson, but spares a ‘Don’t be.’ before trying Alberto. Paolo wasn’t captain right now but he could try to help the one acting in his place. 

Jeffry had always been adamant that he was the best for the job. He wasn’t a good leader, just a good supporter. Paolo had never fought him on it but a part of him wanted to see where captaincy would take Jefferson, just as when he got the armband. Alberto had the seniority and the respect of the coach. If only, Paolo could show the world the Jefferson he knows.

_”Your family is really great.” He’s not looking at him, but towards the surf. Somehow the sound of the waves is louder than the cars and people in the nighttime._

_“I think you mean big and obnoxious.” Jeffry is quiet, contemplative. Paolo has never asked about these moments when there is something lurking underneath the word family and how Jefferson views his own. The party was still going strong at the house, but Paolo had seen that strange mood come over Jeffry and snuck them out, walking until they hit sand._

_“I can’t believe you’re the _baby_ of the family.” He teased, a smile back in place on his face._

_“I have younger cousins! Anyway, I can’t control what my parents did before I was born. It’s not my fault. And I’m much cooler than any of them. Israel can barely talk to a girl without tripping over his tongue.” His older brother should be the one teaching him how to flirt not the other way around._

_“I have a lot of cousins.” Jeffry has his arms wrapped around his knees. Paolo doesn’t know how to fight whatever longing note he hears in his tone so he sits next to his best friend._

_“My mom has practically adopted you, you know what that means?” Jefferson turns his head and Paolo is taken aback by the moment, feeling incredibly lucky and small. In the whole of the universe, they were barely at ant-level but they found each other._

_“We’re brothers now.” His voice cracks embarrassingly, but it feels right with the ocean as their witness. He waits and watches as a grin overtakes Jeffry’s face._

_“Really?” It’s barely more than a whisper, but Paolo knows deep inside himself that this is binding. His heart doesn’t know how to love anything in half-measures. Once you were in, that was it for Paolo. He’d have all the time in the world to understand and alleviate whatever qualms Jefferson had with family when he became part of his._

_“Yes,” He licks his lips. “Really.”_

His mother goes to the stadium in his stead. Paolo hugs her extra tight to pass on if she gets the chance. 

“I’m glad Gareca made some changes. Jeffry always does better with a partner.” Paolo’s mother had been in front of the cameras all day, and was once more going into the fray to support the team beyond her fight with the federation. Paolo bids her goodbye with amusement, which is a great deal better than moping. She would always have her opinions, having done her best to keep up with the sport after Paolo made it big.

She holds his face with both hands, “Watch the game this time. Don’t wait.” 

It’s good advice as he tunes into the pre-match commentary to see his teammates warming up in shirts with his face on it in solidarity. 

“Who put them up to that, I wonder.” He knows he’s not alone. He’s not even watching this alone, family surrounding him and chatting about the changes in the lineup and placing bets on the scoreline along with who will score. 

“Jefferson, obviously.” His not-so-little-anymore littlest cousin scoffs at her older brother. He was rooting for Flores while their dad kept quiet and drank some beer. Paolo smiled widely, excited in a way he hadn’t been since before the suspension. Family loyalty made him privately agree with his cousin, Jefferson would always have his vote of confidence.

He watches as the team gets their photo taken, as Luis starts crying openly during the anthem, as the stadium shakes and roars. His heart swells and is in his throat as the countdown to ninety minutes begins.

It’s just shy of thirty minutes when Cuevita manages to run down the ball and cross it to Jefferson at the edge of the box. It’s launched into the back of the net with the force of his entire soul, of the entire country waiting for the goal. The keeper looks stupefied as everyone around Paolo cheers and jumps up from their seats.

Jeffry is crying, running and crying and someone hands him his jersey.

 _Oh_ , Paolo watches as he falls to his knees, to the ground, shaking, sobbing into his jersey. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world. 

He’s the most beautiful thing in the world. 

And he dedicated that stunning goal to Paolo for the whole world to see. In the repeat, he can see a hint of a smile, his teeth there between hands helping him up and the green grass and his dark hands holding white fabric like a lifeline, like a promise. 

The promise he fulfilled, because Paolo can’t imagine a world that won’t see them through to the World cup after that.

That declaration of love.

**Author's Note:**

> how to footnote. i don't have sources bc it's late
> 
> 1\. paolo was for realsies named after rossi. fun fact, that was the last world cup we qualified for so put some extra feels on top. peru was eliminated in the group stage. italy was also in that group and they won the wc.
> 
> 2\. the news broke of paolo failing his doping test the week before the play off matches took place. he was provisionally suspended for 30 days and is fighting the suspension currently. 
> 
> 3\. the leading theory as to the positive test is he had some tainted herbal tea as it is pretty common in some south american countries to use coca leaves as a remedy tea. the general consensus is paolo isn't lying about consuming a banned substance.
> 
> 4\. jefferson's nickname is la foquita or the diminutive of "seal" like the little seal. he has relatives that were footballers who had "seal" as a nickname too. 
> 
> 5\. arroz con leche is (a better version of) rice pudding. super typical in peru as a dessert.
> 
> 6\. they literally grew up together. they were both in the same school growing up, they went through most of the youth teams together and after a scandal and some injuries farfan was pretty much off the nt but paolo never gave up and vouched for him always until gareca called him up.
> 
> 7\. obviously if you haven't heard, jefferson scored the first goal in the decisive match between peru and new zealand in lima and pulled out paolo's jersey in his goal celebration, afterwards dedicated it to him and saying in a post game interview that he promised him a win, to go to the world cup.
> 
> 7.5 i thiiiiink paolo's mom was there gameday but my memory is fuzzy.
> 
> 8\. all these stupid kids on the nt weren't born the last time we qualified for a wc. pls come cry with me. it's been thirteen days since we won the match but it still feels unreal.


End file.
